Hangover
by Cherry Delight
Summary: What happens when you mix alcohol, egos, and not-so-passive aggression? Love is harder than it looks. Established S/J. Oneshot.


"Hrrlegh!"

Seto Kaiba sat back on the floor, relinquishing the death grip he had on the toilet bowl.

"I don't know why I let you do these things to me," he croaked, resting his head on the wall.

"Oh, shut up! I wasn't holding a gun to your head, I didn't _make_ you drink all those shots!" came an angry voice, somewhat muffled because Jounouchi Katsuya's head was currently hanging over the rim of the tub. He was of course, referring to the soon-to-be legendary drinking competition that had taken place between the two of them just last night, the victor of which would be crowned the winner of their latest trivial yet violent argument. There were, however, no winners in this match.

"If I had any strength left in my arms, I would punch you in the face. Hard," Seto rasped.

"That's what started this in the first place!" Jou cried, swinging around to point at his black eye. The sudden move, however, activated his upchuck reflex and he immediately swung around again to heave into the tub.

"I just…" Kaiba continued, as if Jou hadn't even interjected, "sometimes I just don't know what I'm doing with you…"

Believing the worst to be behind him, Jou awkwardly manoeuvred around so that he sat leaning against the tub, facing Seto. Well, he actually saw three Setos, but he was sure at least one of them was the real thing.

"Well, right now we're puking our guts out," Jou offered, but was again ignored.

"I mean, we just fight all the fucking time. All the time, every day! I'm so sick and tired of it. I don't even know what we're fighting about half the time!" Seto slurred more words than he cared to, and shook his head to clear his drunken thoughts. That, however, was a very bad idea and it took him several moments of wincing agony before he got back to his train of thought.

"We just fight and fuck and fight and fuck and f…" he trailed off as another wave of nausea overcame him. He thought about reaching for the toilet bowl again, but decided against chancing any further movement. He screwed his eyes shut for a few seconds, willing himself not to be sick again and trying to string his rambling thoughts together into coherence.

"Is this what it's always going to be like? You and me in this...endless loop of stupid fights and angry sex and petty contests and just…idiotic crap…This is not the life I planned for myself. This is not how I wanted things to be…"

He was babbling, he knew it, but at this very moment in time it seemed to be the right thing to do. The part of his brain that normally prevented this kind of behaviour was passed out in a puddle of its own sick, leaving even the great Seto Kaiba vulnerable to the inane jibber-jabber that plagued all drunks. It was that damned alcohol - he never drank because it impaired faculties, and last night he had downed a bottle of tequila to defend his manhood, and now here he was talking to himself (he was having trouble remembering Jou was there too, even though Jou was listening quite intently) about things that he'd much rather not have said aloud, far less within earshot of any other person.

"Some days I sit at my desk and I find myself thinking about you. About us," he continued nonetheless. "What is it about you? What is it that just _pulls me_ to you, this unbreakable thing between us… you just get inside me, get under my skin and I don't know how you do it, but you make me so angry. I normally don't…" Jou knew exactly what Seto normally 'didn't.' There was a whole long list of things that Seto normally 'didn't,' and 'have feelings' was all the way at the top, right next to 'do tequila shots' and 'talk to himself.'

"But there are whole days when I can't even look at your stupid face. _Days_. Sometimes I feel like throwing you off the cliffs behind the mansion, or choking you in your sleep. I almost ran you over with the car yesterday. Sometimes I see you just _looking_ at me and I know you're thinking the same thing." Jou absent-mindedly nodded in agreement. He was getting confused. Just what was Seto getting at here? That was just how they were…wasn't it?

"I had a nice, orderly plan," Seto said again, staring off into the distance, "and then _you_ happened," he ground out, almost in disgust. "If this is how it's always going to be, I don't think I…I don't want…"

"What? You don't want me?" Jou asked solemnly, finally grasping that they were having a serious conversation, as one-sided as it appeared to be. He started bracing himself for Seto's reply, taking a deep, pukey breath and aiming his slightly unfocused gaze at what he was almost certain was Seto's own foggy blue eyes.

"I…" Seto dragged his hands down his face, trying to massage the alcohol away from his cranial blood flow. He was hung-over, cranky and tired of talking about his feelings – actually, 'appalled at himself' was the phrase he would choose to describe his current state. But he didn't really need to think about Jou's question, the answer was clear. Finally, after a long, contemplative pause Seto answered Jou, a hint of amazement on his face.

"As much as I would love my peace and quiet back I just…" Seto looked at Jou, a deep, penetrating-yet-hazy gaze, and Jou knew that they were having A Moment. An alcohol-induced, puke-splattered, heart-breaking Moment, right here on the bathroom floor between the toilet and the tub. He didn't realise he was holding his breath until Seto finished talking.

"I guess I'm just a glutton for punishment."

o.o.o.o.o.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.o.o.o.o.o.

 **What am I doing back here? Who even writes fan fiction anymore? Oh wait, lol nvm**


End file.
